


Hey Jealous Lover Ch.13 of 16

by kinfic2



Category: Queer as Folk (US)
Genre: Jealous Brian, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-24
Updated: 2014-04-24
Packaged: 2018-01-20 14:13:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,903
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1513463
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kinfic2/pseuds/kinfic2
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>To the Victor Belongs the Spoils<br/>Takes place after ep.208 and before Ep.217</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hey Jealous Lover Ch.13 of 16

“ **The rules of fair play do not apply in love and war.”** John Lyly (1554-1606)

 

The voice on the phone continued to speak with a humorous drawl, a stark contrast to Brian’s clipped tone. “Anything else, Kinney?”

“That’s it for now.”

“If you need more, call me.”

“I’ll do that.”

“In case you’ve forgotten, I have only the best on ‘round the clock retainers, all experts in their fields.”

Brian couldn’t help but smirk. “You don’t have to remind me. I know you deserve the fucking national debt you call a fee.”

He heard a chuckle at the other end. “Yeah, well, a man’s gotta make a living somehow.”

“How’s the house in the Cayman Islands?”

“Just fine, thank you very much.”

“And the condo in Mexico?”

“Even better.”

“Good. Wouldn’t want you to cut back on those necessities of life,” Brian cracked.

“Your concern is duly noted. I’ll call you when I have something.”

“Yeah, about that....”

A rich baritone laugh rumbled in his ears. “Don’t even have to say it, my good man. So, how _do_ I reach you?”

“I still have the old email address. Use that.”

“Gotcha. Anything else?”

“Yeah, I—”

“I know. You needed it yesterday. That’s why you’re paying me the big bucks. I’ll be in touch. Nice doing business with you again, Mr. Kinney.”

Brian closed the phone with a snap. Still reeling from the wanna-be Romeo’s middle of the night emotional confession, he felt somewhat better. Knowledge is power, he thought, regardless of the method. At least he had a better idea what he was up against.

 _“In my midnight confessions, when I say all the things that I want to.”_ _©L.Josie_

This wasn’t a mere rim, suck, and fuck situation. It was a chocolate, flowers, and make love situation. He could handle the former with no problem. Hell, he could _win_ the former with no problem. The latter was the proverbial fly in the ointment. If Justin wanted or needed that to be happy, it was all over because he cou.... Well, it was simply over, a losing battle.

Remembering a wealthy client from Hong Kong that the agency, that _he_ had snagged, he wished he had a “villain hitter” at his disposal to perform a little Da Xiao Ren.*

** *Da Xiao Ren is a folk sorcery that’s popular in the Guangdong province of China and Hong Kong. Its sole purpose is to curse one’s enemies or “villains” using magic while hitting a paper man with a shoe or other items. **

                                                                                                   * * * *

His skin a delicate shade of pink, Justin stepped out of the shower, pulled a plush towel from the heated rack and briskly rubbed himself dry. Convinced the truth wasn’t an option, he tried to think of an explanation for his behavior that would satisfy Brian. After wiping off the last beads of liquid, he shook his head, scattering drops of water on the mirror like a Jackson Pollock painting or, he thought in amusement, like a dog shaking a sodden coat.

Warm water and shaving lather occupied his attention for the next few minutes, but when he finished, he returned to the current dilemma. He decided the best course of action was to simply apologize for flying off the handle. Hopefully, it would diffuse the situation and deflect probing questions.

He left the bathroom with a sideways glance at the alarm clock. Shit! He was fucking late. Cursing under his breath, he grabbed his clothes from the bed and dressed with a vigilant eye on the time.

                                                                                                    * * * *

Brian was checking his briefcase, making sure he had the necessary charts and reports for his meeting, when a sheepish, blond hurricane raced out of the bedroom, hands fumbling at the buttons on his shirt.

Letting out a forceful breath that expanded his cheeks like a chipmunk, Justin positioned himself in front of the desk. Better to get this done now, he rationalized. “Brian, I—”

“Forget it.” Brian slammed the case shut. He took note of the furrowed brows creasing the smooth forehead. His hand reached out and stroked the folds as if to magically erase their worries. “You were still stressed out. We didn’t get a lot of sleep. I, it was a rough night.”

When a relieved smile lit up the pale face, he grinned. Justin had that effect on people. He infused them with his light. To avoid a soul-bearing conversation about the night before, he deftly changed the subject. “What the fuck put a fire under your ass this morning, anyway? Other than me, of course.”

With a heavy load lifted, Justin brushed his lips against the mouth that knew every intimate inch of him. “Thank you! But your one-liner is for shit so don’t give up the day job. Your technique, however, is one of a kind.” Another wisp of a kiss, then he dashed around the loft to pick up various odds and ends.

“You still haven’t answered me.”

“I forgot that one of my professors wanted to see me this morning. I can’t miss the bus and I’m already late.”

Brian sighed and looked at his watch. “Justin.” No answer. “Justin!”

“Hmm? What?”

“Haul your butt to the kitchen and fix yourself one of those disgusting, take-a-year-off-your-life cereals you can’t seem to live without.”

“Brian, I—”

“I’ll drive you.”

 _“Driven to the margin of error, driven to the edge of control._ _Driven to the margin of terror, driven to the edge of a deep, dark hole.”_ _©Peart,Lee,Lifeson_

Justin turned in surprise. “Don’t you have an early meeting?”

“It can’t start without me anyway.” Brian shrugged. “It’s all about perception, Sunshine.”

His tongue wormed its way to the familiar spot in his cheek. “Besides, it’ll make me more important than I already am.”

The prelude of a smile tugged at Justin’s mouth at their familiar banter as he grabbed his beloved cereal from a cabinet and filled the bowl. “Ah, your humility is so refreshing in this current age of me-first egotists.”

“That’s me. Brian ‘humble as apple pie’ Kinney!”

“I _love_ eating your apple pie, Mr. Kinney! It’s so very tasty!”

“With that kind of talk, young man, even with my chauffeur service, you’ll be late. Now eat your breakfast sugar while I get ready.” Brian looked over his shoulder as he padded to the bathroom. “You can have your apple pie tonight. And if you’re good, you can have a second helping.”

His thin facade of normalcy disappeared when he entered the shower. He vigorously scrubbed to wash away the vague uneasiness that coated his skin like grime, a sensation triggered by Justin’s actions, by Adam’s, and also his own. But ultimately, the latter would determine the outcome.                                                 

                                                                                                    * * * *

Adam peeked at the clock and shook his head in disgust. Unable to sleep after his last phone message, he had tossed and turned, haunted by a certain smile that could melt hearts. It certainly melted his. With a sigh, he hauled himself out of bed and decided he might as well go to school early.

Walking up the path to Gresham Hall, a quick check of his watch confirmed he had at least thirty minutes before meeting Justin. He slumped on a nearby bench, wondering if he had made a mistake baring his soul. He knew Justin really wanted the kiss at the loft but that he also regretted it. Christ! It was only one little kiss, nothing to freak out about. Granted it had been amazing, although too brief, but it wasn’t as if they were fucking on the floor when Kinney got home. Now _that_ would have been interesting, he snickered as he closed his eyes for a brief daydream.

                                                                                                    * * * *

Courtesy of Brian’s Daytona 500 driving skills, they arrived at the school with seconds to spare.

“You can drop me off here,” Justin said, contorting his body to grab the backpack from the rear.

“I don’t have to be anywhere special. Where’s your first class?”

“In the back by the side door, but you don’t have to—”

“No problem. It’ll give me a chance to see my tax dollars at work.” Brian followed the winding drive and asked in a deceptively casual voice, “You up for Babylon tonight?”

“Sure!”

“Thai okay for dinner?”

“Yeah, fine.” Justin mentally scratched his head. He’s _asking_ me what I want to eat?

Brian slowed his approach, looking for—yep, there he was, checking his watch. He brought the car to a stop a few hundred feet from the entrance, smirking at the fortuitous location that afforded him a clear view and vice versa, yet hindered Justin’s line of sight.

He shifted into park, the motor now a gentle purr instead of a roar. Turning in his seat, he reached over the gear shift, grabbed the back of Justin’s neck and drew him close. Hazel eyes studied him with a fire that scorched him with heat. A hungry mouth kissed Justin hard and fast. After demanding entrance, his determined tongue mapped the wetness, probing into hidden corners and savoring the taste. Each intense thrust deeper than the last, he didn’t give Justin time to breathe, not when he felt him squirm for air and not when his own lungs threatened to burst. He’d swallow and devour him whole if he could.

Thoughts of Adam forgotten in the carnal frenzy, he undid their seatbelts with his free hand, while the other pressed on Justin’s back, trying to haul him over the center console. He was hard and knew Justin was also. He wasn’t sure who choked out the sound that penetrated his haze. With a tremulous sigh, he willed himself to stop and pressed their foreheads together, both gasping as if they had run a marathon. _That’s what you get for starting something you can’t finish, Kinney!_

 “See you later,” he said, breathless. He looked out the window and grinned with satisfaction at Adam’s glare.

**                               Cunning is the art of concealing our own defects, and discovering the weaknesses of others. ** William Hazlitt (1778-1830)

“Huh?”

“Earth to Sunshine, answer me.”

The sound of his voice dragged Justin’s libido and attention back to reality. He hated when Brian took them to the edge and didn’t finish. Struggling with a badly behaved cock, he stumbled out of the car. “You’ll get yours, Mr. Kinney,” he grumbled.

“I certainly hope so, Mr. Taylor. Now go be a good boy in school.”

Brian put the ‘vette in gear and drove toward the exit at a snail’s pace, but not before he caught the way Adam ogled Justin, a look that filled him with a caveman urge to deck him squarely in the jaw.

After a frustrated, backward mocking fuck-you look, Justin headed toward the building. His step faltered when he saw Adam waiting by the door. “What’s up?”

“I thought you weren’t going to show.” The relief in Adam’s voice was palpable. “I kept looking at my watch and told myself not to panic. But as the minutes dragged on, I figured you were pissed and didn’t want to meet me.”

Confusion written on his face, Justin asked, “Meet you? What are you talking about?”

“When I left the message on your cell about seeing you before class.”

“What message?” Fumbling with his backpack, Justin opened the zipper and retrieved his phone, checking messages and calls.

“Last night after my other calls.” Adam blushed, turning a pale shade of rosé wine at the memory.

Justin went through his displays twice. “Nope! Nothing here. You sure you called _me_? I mean it was the middle of the night. Maybe you dialed another number by mistake.”

Adam gave a vehement shake of his head. “I definitely called you, Justin. I left two other messages. Then I—”

“I know. I listened to those,” Justin interrupted, a faint tinge of red on his face as well.

Embarrassed, Adam’s eyes darted across Justin’s face. “I was cut off on the second one because it was too long. I called back a third time to say I had some great ideas about the project and that I’d meet you at the side entrance before class.”

“Obviously I didn’t get it.” Justin shrugged, replacing the cell in its outside compartment under the flap. He cocked his head, an elusive something niggling at his brain.

“What?”

“Nothing. It’s just, I guess I was more tired last night than I thought. I was working on my report and started falling asleep at the computer, so I flopped on the sofa. I don’t remember putting my phone or any of my stuff in my bag but—” He gave a cursory glance at the contents. “It seems everything’s here.”

“Maybe your whatever-he-is cleaned up after you,” Adam cracked.

Justin let out an uncomfortable laugh. “Brian’s not exactly a ‘Let me clean up Justin’s shit because he’s tired’ kind of guy.”

“What kind of a guy is he?” Adam pushed.

Running a hand through his hair in frustration, Justin didn’t have an answer. How could he describe someone who defied description?

                                                                                                    * * * *

When Brian strode by without acknowledging her presence, Cynthia could feel the bad karma radiating in waves. _He’s tense and distracted_. _What is it now?_ With years of experience reinforcing her sixth sense, this behavior did not bode well.

Her watchful eyes followed him as he charged into his office. Well-acquainted with every nuance of her complicated boss, she knew he was flipping through the pages of the file she had prepared for the meeting—after cancelling another date with Josh to work on it. She sighed. The man was a saint. There was no other explanation for his unending supply of patience and understanding whenever she backed out due to business. He never asked, never questioned. And she loved him for it.

A moment later Brian stood at her desk, folder in hand. “I haven’t had time to go through this,” he snapped. “Are you sure everything’s here?”

She wanted to lash out and snap back, _tell me when it hasn’t been?_ But she bit her lip, counted to ten, and said quietly, “I double and triple checked. Everything’s fine.”

He pushed the double glass doors open with the force of a man twice his size and marched down the corridor to the conference room. Definitely troubled, she thought and hoped whatever it was wouldn’t rear its head until he finished the presentation.

                                                                                                    * * * *

“But you don’t understand. It’s not like that,” Justin disagreed. He and Adam had been arguing for the past few minutes. Why the fuck were they doing this? “I’ve been living with him in my life for over two years.”

Adam asked in a tense voice, “How, Justin? _How_ have you been living with him? Bullshitting your way after him, playing follow the leader, letting him treat you like shit, making excuses for him?”

“Look—”

“No, _you_ look! I know you don’t give a shit about what I think, and I know nothing I say is going to influence you, even though I wish it would. But....” He spread his hands helplessly. “How long can you go on like this? I mean, fuck!Anyone with half a brain can see what’s happening! For every good moment you have with him there has to be at least twice as many that have you pulling your hair out. And what do you do? You keep picking up the pieces. But inside you’re wondering which blow-up will be the final one, the one to end it. And it’s going to happen, Justin. You have to know that.”

Justin’s stomach lurched, the words nailing him to an emotional cross with a particular feeling of anxiety, the one that only surfaced when a deep secret was discovered and revealed.

“Shut up, Adam! Just fucking shut up! You don’t know what....” His voice wavered with raw emotion. He had too much of himself invested in Brian. _Everything_ was invested in Brian. “Never mind. Forget it.” Swallowing to fight the burn in his eyes, he lit a cigarette and blew out a geyser of smoke.

“Justin, I don’t want to fight with you. I just want to open your eyes, to show you what it looks like from the outside.”

“Well, you’re not exactly an unbiased outsider, are you?”

Taken aback by the sharpness, Adam hesitated before admitting, “I, no, you’re right. I’m definitely not. And you know something? I’m glad I’m not.”

“Yeah, well, don’t worry about my eyes, okay? I know what I’m doing.” Justin motioned to the various sketches in his hands. “You still want to do this?” Part of him wished he’d say no, that he’d prefer to work with someone else, and the other part hoped he wouldn’t.

“Well, yeah, of course! Why wouldn’t I?”

Blue eyes screwed shut when Adam reached out to touch his face. “Don’t!” It was difficult being close to him, breathing in his cologne. His current predicament wasn’t all Adam’s fault. He was very aware he had been an active participant in bringing them down this road.

“Justin, I—”

“Drop it. Let’s go. I have to meet with Professor Connelly.” There was no other way to play it. He told himself there would be others, others who could deliver picnics, flowers, and romance—everything he didn’t have with Brian, yet wished he did— should he ever decide in the future that he needed more. But he knew that would never happen.

 

continue here: <http://archiveofourown.org/works/1559417>


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